unmentionable exchanges
by kyleisgod
Summary: Stan and Kyle can't agree on which one of them owns a certain pair of underwear. They'll do just about anything to figure it out. Do I really need to say more than that?


Author's Notes: They're aged up, of course.

Sixteen year old Stan Marsh mashed his controller buttons faster, making his animated character on-screen do the same thing. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. Kyle's character was faster, but Kyle himself wasn't necessarily better at the game than Stan. After twelve hours of playing "Video Game: the video game" one's fingers tend to get tired.

"Ha! I win again!" Kyle exclaimed.

Stan shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever"

Kyle grinned. "If you'd won, you'd be just as enthusiastic as me."

"Sure, okay."

"You would!"

Stan turned off his game. His monotone voice vanished. "Are you spending the night again?"

"Nah I can't. I have synagague in the morning."

Kyle got up from his seated position on Stan's bedroom floor. He handed his friend back the second game controller and made his way for the door. Stan glanced around the room, making sure Kyle had everything he'd came to the house with. And, more importantly, that he wasn't stealing anything. It was then that Stanley's eyes fell on an item under his bed.

"Oh! Dude wait!" Stan said.

Kyle paused with his hand on the doorknob. "What?"

Stan reached a hand underneath his bed and pulled out the item. It was a pair of boxer shorts. "You forgot these last time."

A puzzled expression came over Kyle's face. "Huh? Dude, those aren't mine."

"Yeah they are. Remember? Last time you were here you spent the night and you showered the next morning. When you changed clothes you left these here."

"Dude, no I didn't. And why were you keeping them under your bed?"

"I didn't want your underwear getting all mixed in with mine. That's gay. But you're here now so take 'em back."

"Stan, those are your underwear," Kyle argued. "You must've just left a pair laying around and assumed they were mine."

"These aren't mine," Stan said back.

"Well they're not mine," Kyle repeated. He pointed to a pile of clothing accumulating in the corner of the room. "You leave clothes laying around all the time. They're yours."

"Are you calling me a liar?!"

"Are you saying I'm too dumb to recognize my own fucking boxers?!"

"Look, I don't wanna fight. Just take the stupid underwear."

"No! Stan, if I take those and they're actually yours, which they are, that means I'll be wearing your underwear. Do you have any idea how fucking gay that is?"

"Yes, which is why I'm not keeping them. If I wear them, my balls are gonna touch the same place your balls have been. That's fucking gay!"

"My balls have never been inside -your- underwear, so it's fine."

"Well now my hand's been -on- your underwear and I already feel pretty homo about it, so take them! Now!"

"Don't tell me what to do, asshole!"

"Fine!!!"

Stan shoved the boxer shorts back underneath of his bed. Kyle opened the door and stomped out in a huff, slamming the door behind him as he exited Stan's room.

Kyle avoided Stan the next morning as best he could, but that was pretty much impossible to do inside of a school building. Stan knew he could catch Kyle at his locker at some point in the day, and that's exactly where he caught him between classes. As Stan approached, Kyle tried to stop him in his tracks.

"Stan-"

"I'm sorry," Stan replied quickly, cutting Kyle off mid-sentence.

Kyle frowned and shut his locker's door. His angry defenses lowered. "Me too. I hate fighting with you."

"Totally. So, look, it's no big deal. Just take the underwear back. You don't even have to wear them. Let's just end this."

"Stan, I can't take them back when they aren't mine."

"They have to be yours. They're guy underwear and they're too small for my dad or grandpa."

"They were in your room. They're yours."

"Kyle, I can prove these aren't mine."

"How?"

Stan pulled a cellular phone out of his shirt pocket. He flipped the device open and pressed a few buttons before turning the cell around, letting Kyle have a look at what was displayed on the screen. There on the phone for the redhead's eyes only was a still picture of Stan wearing the controversial boxers and nothing else.

Stan hit a button, switching the image to another shot of himself in the undergarments at a different angle. "See how it hugs my hips? It's too tight. It's yours!"

Kyle inspected the image extremely closely, looking for flaws. He snatched the phone out of Stan's hand and began scrolling through various images of his half-nude friend.

"But look at the way it highlights your ass. It's not tight on you; it's comfortable. They fit you like a glove."

The black-haired boy took his phone back and closed it shut again. "Kyle, I wore these to prove a point. They're yours and I'm trying to give them back to you. I did one of the gayest things I could ever possibly do for you. Now take them back."

"They're -not- mine! If you don't believe me, -I'll- wear the stupid things and show you!"

"...Okay" Stan agreed. "Come by my house tonight. We'll just see whose they are."

"Fine."

That night Kyle returned to the Marsh house, but he came prepared. Having a lawyer for a dad paid off sometimes. Kyle learned a lot about arguing, and evidence, from his old man. When he came into Stan's room that evening, he dumped the contents of his sleeping bag onto the floor. Beside his clothes for the next morning were various pairs of underwear.

"-These- are the type of underwear I put on," Kyle said. "They're colorful. Vibrant. You really expect me to believe I'd wear a pair of plain white boxers?"

Stan pulled the aforementioned underwear from their trusty position underneath the bed. "Do you expect -me- to believe I'd mistake a pair of my underwear for yours?" Stan countered. "With all the crap we're going through to get this right, with all the worrying about not wanting to come off gay by wearing another dude's boxers, you really think I'd mistake what kind I wear?"

"Prove it," Kyle challenged. "Let's see your underwear drawer."

"Fine!"

Stan stomped over to his dresser. He opened it violently, revealing his choice of underpants to his friend. He began pulling out pair after pair, showing them individually to Kyle before tossing them to the floor.

"See Kyle? I don't have plain white ones either. Green, blue, red..."

Stan paused. His jaw dropped open. The next pair in his hands was in fact a plain whilte pair of boxer shorts.

Kyle smirked triumphantly. "Told you so."

Stan blinked. His jaw closed. He grabbed the questionable pair from off of the floor and held them up next to the new, self-damning evidence. He looked back and forth, comparing them. There had to be some difference. Some way he could prove he was right and Kyle was wrong.

"Well, even if one of these is mine, the other HAS to be yours!" Stan finally said.

Kyle opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Technically, Stan was probably right. But he couldn't just admit that. Not yet. He'd look stupid.

"Maybe, but maybe not," Kyle defended. "I mean, you didn't know you had this pair. Maybe they're both yours. They look matching."

"Oh please!" Stan rolled his eyes. "One of these is yours, now take it back!"

"No way dude! What if I take the wrong pair? That'd be gay."

"Kyle come on we have to figure this out."

"How?"

Stan thought for a moment, continuing to examine the identical boxers.

"I've got it! Our sizes are different. We'll each try on both the boxers, and whichever one fits us better, that's the one we wear."

Kyle blinked. "You mean like Cinderella?"

"Yeah sort of."

"But if we both try the underwear on, doesn't that kinda defeat the purpose of not coming off gay?"

Stan rolled his eyes."You have a better idea?"

"...No."

"Okay then. Grab a pair and take your pants off."

"What?! Why can't I just change underwear in the bathroom?"

"Because you might cheat and stretch them out or something. No no no, we're settling this right now without any questions."

Kyle blinked. "Stan, I really don't like where this is going. For two people who don't wanna come off gay, this seems really queer. Like, -really queer!"

"I know that okay?! I know. But we have to do this Kyle. It's just us here. We'll do this, and never speak of it again."

Kyle sighed. "Fine."

Kyle grabbed one of the pairs of boxers from Stan. Kyle's hands found the fly of his pants and lowered it downward. Stan did the same. Their pants fell around their ankles simultaneously. Stan stepped out of his first, and kicked them into the still-present pile of clothes in the corner of his room. Kyle stepped out of his next and made sure to kick his pants in the other direction toward the closed bedroom door. They were NOT going to have this mixup again.

Having already modeled boxers on his camera phone, Stan was more comfortable sliding off his current boxer shorts. They were moved into the pile as well. The new pair went on. Stan looked over at Kyle, who was also reluctantly changing shorts in front of his friend.

"How do they fit?" Stan asked.

"Good. Yours?"

"Good."

"Okay, switch," Kyle instructed.

They dropped their underwear in front of each other, again, and officially traded. Both boys shuddered in heterosexual disgust as their privates touched where the other boy's privates had just been.

"Something's wrong," Kyle admitted. "These feel exactly the same."

"Mine too," Stan agreed.

Kyle curiously slid his fingers inside the rim of his current underwear. He found the inner tag, revealing the size of the underwear. His hand smacked his forehead, realizing that this could've been done way before exposing himself to Stan twice. "Shit" Stan muttered, realizing the same thing before examining his own size.

The suspicions were soon put to rest. It turned out both pairs of underwear felt the same because they -were- the same. Same size all around, and same color.

"Wow" Stan said, embarrassed. "This was pointless."

"Yep" Kyle agreed. "Now we'll -really- never speak of this again."

Stan nodded. "You know, I've learned something today. We just came off looking really stupid."

"And gay" Kyle interrupted.

"And gay. And for what? We were so caught up in not coming off looking bad that we ended up looking even worse. We're never gonna figure out whose underwear is whose, and we shouldn't care so much about it. From now on, let's not worry about stupid crap. It's better to come off looking gay than looking retarded."

"Totally" Kyle agreed. "And hey, I want you to know I appreciate you trying to give me my underwear back. It was a real sacrifice putting them on yourself like that."

"Hey, you did the same for me," Stan said with a smile. "That's what friends are for. I'd take a bullet for you if I had to."

"Me too. But let's not test that one out."

"Right. So, you spending the night?"

"Sure. Let's go to bed."

Still in their underwear, or possibly each other's, the boys made their way into Stan's bed. Stan flicked off the light in his room while Kyle crawled under the covers. Stan laid down next, making sure he remained on top of the covers instead of underneath them with Kyle.

After all, they didn't want to be gay about this. 


End file.
